by Author Quinn
He rests a hand over my head and captures my lips with his again. This time, he slips a finger into my pussy. And I arch my back off the wall. With my eyes now tightly shut, I continue circling my own thumb around my clit.
“That’s it. Keep going.” I’ve never had a man make me come like this. But when Henrik adds another finger, I’m lost. He grabs my other hand and it glides smoothly down his shaft.
I’m good with my hands. I’ve always been good with my hands. Except, I’m nothing compared to what he’s doing to me. There’s a build up in my lower belly. I open my legs a little more and accept a third finger from him. In another second, there’s an explosion of emotion within me, as I gush between my thighs, on his fingers.
He catches me in his strong arm when my legs begin to tremble. I open my eyes to his searing gaze. He’s taken all three fingers that were inside me and lifts them to his lips, licking each one.
I’m trying to catch my breath through the stream of the hot water. But when Henrik asks, “You ready for more?” I try to sputter a response.
“Yes. More. Now.”
He helps me wrap my legs around his waist, and lifts my ass with one steady hand. I find his lips, tasting my own essence on them, and moan out loud when without hesitation, he pierces through me.
I have a tight grip on his hair, getting tighter when he pounds into me. His guttural groans are music to my ears and I supply my own music in our symphony with pants and moans.
“Fuck, Ingrid,” he whispers against my neck. There’s no sound sweeter than a man so lost in you that all he can do is say your name.
He thrusts harder and harder, until my whole back is flat against the wall, and I’m trying to find a grip on the slick wall otherwise I’m afraid I’d pull all his hair off.
“I’m ready. It’s there,” I tell him, and somehow, he finds more strength to rut into me. “There. I’m there. I’m there.”
We both are. I shout his name as I come, and he does the same, even though he pulls out and I feel his cock throbbing under my pussy.
I wake in a jolt, feeling like I’m falling. Momentarily, I’m lost. I don’t know where I am, and I don’t know whose hand is on my breast. I narrow my eyes, letting them adjust to the dark. Henrik doesn’t stir beside me. His breathing is steady, calm. How does he not have nightmares after what we’ve been through?
If it wasn’t for the unbelievable sex, I don’t think I would’ve gotten a wink. My mind races through the events of the night. And with them comes regret.
As quietly and carefully as I can, I remove his hand from my chest, and I slip out of bed. My clothes are in a heap by the bathroom door. Hurriedly, I dress back into my old clothes. They smell like the airplane and alcohol. They don’t smell like me, because even I am not me. Not tonight, at least.
It was someone else who slept with Henrik. It was another Ingrid who had the courage to follow him to the shower. It was the Ingrid who has dreams, not nightmares.
I spot my purse on the desk, and I grab it. With one last look behind me, I take all of Henrik in – his naked chest, the shape of his muscular legs under the sheets, even his unkempt hair on the pillow. He’s nowhere close to the type of man I would date. He’s someone else’s dream man. The other Ingrid’s dream guy.
But that’s the thing with dreams, or nightmares. At some point, I wake up and have to face reality.
Chapter Three
A week later…
Going up the elevator still gives me mini-heart attacks even after all this time. But it’s time to face the inevitable—my return to work.
If I hadn’t received that email from my assistant, I wouldn’t be here today.
He made the new guy the project manager.
It has angered me so much that I didn’t bother with the rest of my leave. It’s hard to be taken seriously by a pig-headed, chauvinistic, mysoginist boss. It doesn’t matter how much talent or how my skills surpass anyone around me—man or woman, all he sees is a young woman trying to play with the big boys of his firm. Unfortunately, I’ve gotten used to this. First, people had a hard time seeing through the fog of trust fund baby aura around me. When I manage to prove myself worthy of a position as lead in any design project, it’s still not enough because I’m a skirt. Well, this skirt has something up my sleeve.
The loud ding of the elevator causes me to jump, and I hold on to the bar for support until the queasiness disappears from my stomach. When the doors open, our ecstatic receptionist, and my assistant, Sheila, greet me. I don’t know what I’d do without her. She’s a life saver, amongst other things.
“Walk and talk,” I say as she hands me a latte. See…life-saver.
Sheila speaks in a hushed voice, her eyes weary of the people nearby. “They announced it this morning.”
“This morning?”
“Yeah, during the staff meeting.”
“I didn’t know there was a meeting.”
“It was last minute, Ingrid. If I’d known, you know I’d inform you.”
I wave my hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not mad at you. Tell me everything you know.”
Sheila glances around and speaks in an even lowered tone. “He’s from another firm in Austin. Mr. Tomlinson seems proud to have him here, even hinted that he came with a heavy price tag.”
“Have you seen his work?” We finally stop in front of my office. I look around me—nothing has changed around here but something feels off, an invisible, unnerving presence. I’ve been with ARC Industries for a few years, enough to know who’s slept with whom.
Sheila lowers her head and clutches the files close to her chest. Uh-oh. This is not good. “Spit it out, Sheila.”
Slowly, she raises her chin and looks me straight in the eye. “He’s good, Ingrid. Real good. Remember that building in San Jose about a year ago?” I scrunch my face, trying to figure out which building she’s talking about. “The one that won all those awards?”
“Holy shit. That’s him? What’s his name?” I snap my fingers as we head into my office. Sheila closes the door behind her. “Something Asian?”
“Lam. Yup. H. R. Lam.”
Without admitting out loud, I have to say I see this guy’s merit. His work is unbelievable. He’s on top of the architectural echelon, without trying. Rumor has it, he started as the youngest prodigy the architectural world has ever seen. But why is he here? After winning all those prestigious awards, he could have his pick of location and architectural firms the world over. Why ARC? We’re good but we are not international good. Not yet, at least.
I pull out my chair from under my desk and mull this information over. Yeah, this Lam guy is fantastic, but I’m not going down without a fight. I have a battle before me, but no one in this office knows how much arsenal I’ve got, not even the CEO, especially not that old, perverted turd.
“Any minutes from the meeting?” I ask Sheila.
“No, sorry. They just called us in without saying what it’s about. And they still don’t know you’re here. Do you want me to let them know?” There’s a hint of trouble in her little smile.
I shake my head. “No, it’s fine. Can you find out if this new guy and Tomlinson have a meeting today?”
“Already done.” She hands me a printout. “Should be in ten minutes.”
“Thanks, Sheila. I have to make a phone call. Close the door behind you please.”
As soon as she leaves, I fish out my cell phone from my purse and dial a number I know by heart. He answers after two rings.
“What kind of mischief are you up to now?” Teddy asks without a hint of playfulness in his voice.
“Is it done?”
He chuckles. “Someone’s eager.”
“He gave the project to someone else, Teddy.”
“Stop calling me that. You know how much I hate that name.”
I roll my eyes. Men can be such drama queens. “Fine. Theo,” I say in a mocking tone and stick my tongue out. I swivel on my chair and face the Chicago scenery before me.
Gorgeous day—the sun rays playing over the towering glass buildings. “Is it done?”
“Nearly.”
“And he won’t know what hits him?”
He laughs again. “You know that’s not how it works. I can’t take over a company without the CEO knowing.”
“Ugh. Fine. It would’ve been poetic justice.”
“That’s a lot of bitterness coming from you so early in the morning, Ingrid.”
“He replaced me without even letting me know. How am I supposed to accept that?”
“Fair enough. Just don’t let your brattiness come out when you talk to him today. He still doesn’t understand how I know about the firm’s struggles. I’m trying my best with what I’ve been given. Until the ink’s dry, don’t create panic.”
“Of course not. I’m an angel in disguise.”
“Uh-huh.” His tone is riddled with disbelief. Theo is the brother I never wanted but glad I have. He and I grew up in the same house soon after he lost his parents in an accident. Even after he got emancipated, we stayed close. He watched over me, like a protective, but annoying big brother. He still does so even now.
After the plane incident, I reached out to him and he managed to keep me calm, forcing me to look into the future, toward our devious little plan—him taking over ARC Industries and getting rid of Tomlinson.
Hanging up, I release a great sigh of relief. Sure, I could’ve bought the company myself, my parents left me enough money to do so, but I had no intentions of running a business. I want to create, to make use of my God-given talents. And to prove that I’m not just another trust fund princess. I slip the phone back in my purse. Standing, I brush the barely there wrinkles on my pants. My suit of armor today is a kelly green jumpsuit cinched at the waist with a gold belt, and paired with killer tan stilettoes.
When I step out of my office, I bump into the one of our temps, Talia, who’s already sporting a massive grin on her face, coffee in hand.
“Well look who’s back! I didn’t know you’re in today. I thought you wouldn’t be back until next week,” she says in rapid pace. I love her energy.
“And let the boys play all by themselves? Never.” One of my brows shoots up.
Talia nods and her grin widens. “So you’ve heard. Damn, news travels fast.”
“Only the ones I need to be aware of. What can you tell me about the new guy?”
Talia bites down on her bottom lip and fans herself. “Mr. Yum? Hmmm, woman, the man is hot. A little on the clean-cut side, but it takes a real woman to muss him up, and give him that dangerous sexy boost.”
I can’t help but chuckle at her description. Despite being an award-winning architect, H. R. Lam has evaded the design world’s limelight. I can respect that, but since he stole the management position from me, I couldn’t care less about his appearance.
“You’re not going to take this lying down, are you?” Talia asks, matching my raised brow. I detect a hint of pride in her voice. Talia is my people. We laugh at the same jokes and most of our interactions are not for the faint of heart.
“Have I ever? I’m telling you Talia, one day, you’ll be in my camp. When I take back what’s mine, you’ll be working with me too.”
“Then don’t let me stop you.” She steps aside and waves a hand forward. “Go get ‘em.”
I plan to do to exactly that. I wish I could tell her about the other plans I have for the firm…and for that matter, my plans for her. Right from the start, I saw nothing but raw talent in Talia. Plus it doesn’t hurt that she’s Theo’s type. I may have more than one ulterior motive getting him to move here.
Shoulders pushed back, chin up, I walk straight into Tomlinson’s office, ignoring his assistant, Lyra, along the way. “Good morning!”
To say the CEO’s shocked to see me is an understatement. The man seated in front of him doesn’t move. Why would he? He doesn’t know what kind of wrath is about to rain on his parade.
“You’re back,” Mr. Obvious says.
I plaster a faux smile on my face and shrug one shoulder. “I figure why waste any more time?” I advance, stopping behind the free Chesterfield leather chair in front of Tomlinson’s antique medieval desk. His office screams boy’s club. These two might as well be smoking cigars and drinking Scotch right now. The kick in the pants is I was the one able to purvey all the office furniture. I dig my nails into the chair’s leather. “You know how it is, Ray.”
He narrows his eyes at me, and rocks back on his chair. He lets out a frustrated sigh. “I didn’t know you’d be back so soon.”
I straighten, folding my arms across my chest. “So you decided to pull the rug from under me?” Up to this point, I’ve tried to ignore our audience. From my peripheral vision, I can make out his strong profile. When he turns to watch me, I let my gaze slide briefly to the side without staring directly at him. He can judge me all he wants, it’s nothing I’ve never had to deal with. However, as he continues to stare at me, even as I return my sneer toward my original target, I feel uneasiness in the pit of my stomach. I attempt to shake it off with a roll of my shoulders.
“Perhaps it’s a good time to introduce you to Mr. Lam.” Tomlinson waves a hand in front of him. The man beside me stands to his full height and my unease grows stronger. He’s too close for comfort. “He comes to us with…” He stops talking as I cross my arms again, and send off an “I am woman, hear me roar” stare down.
“I should head back to my office.” The hair on my arms raise when I hear his voice. Sin and fantasy rolled into one. Memories of him will never be forgotten.
Slowly, and trying ever so hard to hide the shiver coursing through me, I turn to him. My lips part as my eyes widen. He’s different. He’s not the same man who devoured me whole in that hotel room, and at the same time, he is.
Clean-cut was the word Talia used to describe him. But I’ve seen him in his purest form—with long golden brown hair down to his shoulders, thick beard, naked in all his glory.
Henrik.
My heart thuds against my ribs as he sends that cognac gaze upon me. He’s taller than I remember, or it could be the navy blue, bespoke suit he has on. Or it could be the way he makes me feel so small all of a sudden. And he looks younger too. Younger, yet wiser. No other man has left me this speechless before.
He turns to Tomlinson. “Let me get back to the drawing board and I’ll have initial drafts by this afternoon.”
“Yes do that.” Tomlinson doesn’t wait until he’s out of the office. “Now, Ingrid, you have to understand I did what I had to do.”
My moment with Henrik is over. The vivid memories of him in that hotel room have to wait. “Did you really? We had an agreement. My leave wasn’t a real leave. I worked my butt off for that project and you give it to some nobody when it’s convenient?”
“He’s hardly a nobody. If you’d let me introduce him.”
“I know who he is. The fact of the matter is that Superior project is mine. We shook on it. Or does your word mean nothing?” Or is it because I’m a woman? I want to add. Tomlinson is an old, traditional git. I truly believe he’s going senile. ARC is the first company I’ve ever worked in that hasn’t bored me to tears. But with him around, the future of the company is at stake. I discovered this when one of his mistresses with a loose tongue wouldn’t shut up about it at a gala.
“I’ve made my decision.” He leans back in his chair and folds his hands on his desk.
“For now. But you’ll change your mind. I’ve proven my worth. You know what I can do.” With that, I turn on my heels and stomp out of the office.
I want to scream as I make my way down the hallway. It will have to wait until I get to my office. But as soon as I get there, I’m taken aback. I hesitate by the door. My throat dries up. My belly tumbles.
Henrik, all six-foot-four goodness of him, in a suit cut to perfection, stands in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows behind my desk. One of his hands is in his pocket, making the fabric of his pants stretch over and em
phasize the shape of his butt. I take a tentative step forward. I’ve never been in this position before. I avoid everything necessary to make sure I don’t end up in these types of situation.
“I’ve forgotten how beautiful this city can be,” he says without looking over his shoulder. How does he know I’m here? In slow motion—or at least that’s how it seems to me—he turns his full body around. God, he is gorgeous. I agree with Talia’s nickname for him, Mr. Yum.
“Why are you here?” I ask, avoiding his gaze as I round my desk, fiddling with the pieces of paper on it, not really knowing what else to do with my hands.
He doesn’t say anything until he’s behind me—the heat of his body emanating through his suit, singeing the skin under my clothes. I inhale his scent, a deeper, richer, more tantalizing scent than coconut. He’s no Mr. Sex on the Beach today. He’s Fuck-me-against-the-glass-windows kind of man. I screw my eyes closed. Stop it, Ingrid. Not now.
“You left without saying goodbye,” he mumbles against the back of my ear. My hands begin to shake. Heat oozes down the center of my chest, past my navel, between my legs. “I had every intention of moving to this city. Imagine my surprise when I find out who’ll be working under me.”
Under! Did he say under?
“Don’t get comfortable. That position belongs to me.”
“I’m well aware of what position you’re great at.” He chuckles, and he’s close enough for me to feel the rumble in his chest. He hasn’t touched me. If he wanted to, he can and honestly, I don’t know if I’d be able to push him off. “I’m looking forward to us working together, Ingrid. This time, you can’t get rid of me that fast.”
He leaves me in a shivering heap. I stumble onto my chair, panting, trying to bring oxygen back into my addled brain. This is not part of the plan. He’s not part of the plan. I have to get my shit together.
Since leaving him in the hotel bed, I have tried my hardest to shake off the memory of him. But as much as I don’t want to admit it, he’s burrowed deep in me. He’s in my head then as much as he is now. It would take all the strength I have to ignore the pure lust I have for the man, now that I know he’ll be closer to me than ever before.
